Stowaway
by LadyDivine91
Summary: While he's supposed to be working, Kurt is instead spying on a handsome guy, sitting in his section, that he knows from school...and who happens to be exhibiting some rather odd behavior. Kadam. Kurt H. Adam C.


**A/N:** **Written for the Kadam Week prompt #3 'kittens and/or puppies'**

Kurt has been standing behind the diner counter for the past hour, wiping down glasses and silverware as an elaborate ruse to spy on the man in the knit cap, seated at a booth in his section. It's not because he has no other work to do. The diner has been hopping since the start of Kurt's shift. There have already been two birthday parties and three random sing-a-longs. They're expecting a party of twelve in a little less than half-an-hour, but Kurt is scheduled to leave in about ten minutes, so he should really be focusing on getting his section cleared of the loiterers, nursing sodas watered down by ten ounces of melted ice, who have yet to pay their checks.

But this handsome man, with a sunny smile that extends to his eyes, so rare in their weekday afternoon diners; his funky, Bohemian manner of dress; and his charming accent; have Kurt absolutely captivated. And to top it off, Kurt _knows_ him. His name is Adam. He goes to NYADA. He runs one of the greatest (in Kurt's opinion) college show choirs in all of New York City.

And Kurt knows for a fact that the man is gay.

For the most part, he is _perfect_. From the first day Kurt walked into school and saw him, hanging sign-up sheets in the student commons, Kurt has been trying to work up the courage to ask him out. This might be the perfect time. He can stroll over to his booth, ask him if he needs a refill on his Coke, strike up a conversation, slide him a complimentary slice of cheesecake, and stealthily write his phone number on the customer copy of the receipt. In his head, it sounds like a rom-com in the making.

However, Kurt has hit a snag. This _perfect man_ has started feeding bits of his tuna fish sandwich to the pocket of his hoodie.

Kurt sighs. Only in New York.

 _Why?_ he asks himself. _Why is it always the handsome ones that turn out to be so bizarre?_

Kurt figures he should consider cutting his losses, hand the man his check, and let him go on his way. They've only had two conversations at school as it is. Adam probably doesn't even know Kurt exists apart from his signature on an Adam's Apples sign-up sheet. But there's something about the way he's looking down at the pocket he's feeding, the soft smile on his lips, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Plus, he appears to be talking to it, or more to the point, cooing. Kurt is too curious, and before he makes the decision to stop pursuing his daydream of inviting this man out for coffee, he needs to know what's so interesting about that pocket.

Adam is a Musical Theater Major. That might explain a thing or two. They do tend to be an odd breed.

Kurt walks round the counter and heads for Adam's booth, hoping to catch him off guard. As he approaches, he cranes his neck to look over the seat, but his view of the pocket remains blocked by Adam's elbow.

"Hey there," Kurt says, coming up behind him with still no luck for a decent view.

Adam jumps. "Hey," he says, clamping his hand carefully over his pocket, shielding it from Kurt's view.

"So, are you just about done here?" Kurt gestures at the picked-apart food on the man's plate and the empty soda glass.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, I'd say so," Adam replies after a visual sweep of his table.

"Were you thinking about ordering any dessert today?" Kurt asks, stalling for the time he needs to come up with a way to unravel the mystery. "We have ten milkshake flavors, our Boston Cream pie is pretty popular, and we have an excellent New York style cheesecake. Though, technically, I guess it would just be _cheesecake_ since we're _in_ New York." Kurt raises his eyebrows, hoping something he named sounded appetizing enough to make Adam stick around a bit longer…and forget his lame joke.

"No, not today, I think…uh…" Adam gets distracted by his pocket when, to Kurt's surprise, it squirms. "If I can just get the check…please?"

"Certainly," Kurt says, politely ignoring the fact that Adam's pocket mewled. He takes a step away from the booth, but he can't leave. He has to find out what's in that pocket; he just _has_ to. Of course, prying could kill his chances with Adam, if he ever had any, but he can't help himself. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Kurt _has_ to know.

"Hey," he says, standing closer to the booth than usual, blocking other waiters' view of Adam and his pocket, "can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm?" Adam says, a little tight, a little anxious

Kurt bends slightly to keep their conversation hush-hush. "What's in your pocket?"

Adam stares back at Kurt with an expression of severe discomfort. "Uh…in my…in my pocket? There's nothing…"

"I promise, I won't tell anyone," Kurt whispers. He looks at Adam with pleading eyes and an honest smile. "Please."

Adam sighs, a bit defeated, but he smiles back.

"Alright," he says. "But I'm trusting you to be the soul of discretion."

Kurt puts two fingers to his lips and makes a locking motion. "Mum's the word. I swear."

"Okay. It's this little guy." Adam pulls down the lip of his pocket, and a puff of orange fur with bright green eyes peeks out. The kitten looks at Adam, then straight up at Kurt, and lets out a soft but poignant, "Meow."

"Oh my _God_ ," Kurt gasps. "That is the cutest kitten in all of the known universe!"

"Yes, he is," Adam agrees, baby talking to the tiny creature and giving it a scratch underneath its chin, which it lifts to accommodate him. "I found him a few days ago, cold and hungry, limping on the sidewalk outside my building. So I took him in and fed him. I was going to take him to a shelter, but I…I couldn't do it." Adam gives Kurt a sheepish shrug. "I just picked him up from the vet this afternoon. He has a broken paw, so I couldn't leave him at home to fend for himself."

"Of course you couldn't," Kurt says, shaking his head emphatically.

"Unfortunately, I can't keep him, either."

Kurt's head snaps from the precious ball of floof to Adam's gloomy face.

"Wha-why not?"

"My roommate," Adam explains. "She's extremely allergic to cats."

"Oh," Kurt says. He watches the kitten close its heavy eyelids, its head drooping as it drifts off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Adam's hoodie. "That's…that's too bad."

"I know," Adam says. "I don't have anywhere else to take him. Most of my friends live in dorms, and they don't allow animals. It looks like I might actually have to take him to a shelter after all."

"No," Kurt says, thinking fast when he imagines this poor kitten, stuck in cage, shivering in the cold, and alone. Kurt hasn't been to a shelter before, so that's actually probably the furthest thing from the truth, but it's the first image that pops into his mind, and it sticks. "No, don't do that. You know, my roommate and I have been discussing getting a cat." That's not entirely a lie. He and Rachel had discussed it. She wanted to get a cat for the loft, name it Macavity, and make it their mascot. On holidays, she envisioned the three of them wearing coordinating outfits and performing festive musical numbers from the fire escape for their neighbors, whom she was certain would appreciate the whimsy of it. Kurt, on the other hand, said that any animal that pooped in an open box of sand had no business being in their home. But he's not completely repulsed by the thought of a feline companion, to curl up beside him on the sofa during rainy days, or on his bedspread while he watched his late night Judy Garland marathons. This adorable munchkin, with his freckled nose and his melodious meow, might be just the cat to change his mind.

Besides, it came with the added bonus of a smitten former owner, who might be persuaded to stop by and visit every once in a while.

"And if you let me take this little guy home with me, then, you know, you could come by and visit him whenever you want." Adam looks at Kurt blankly, and Kurt wonders if Adam thought that last comment was too forward. Or…maybe he has no clue who Kurt is, the way Kurt suspected. "Oh, you might not remember me. I go to school with you. My name's…"

"Kurt," Adam fills in.

"You know my name?" Kurt chuckles, giddy at hearing this man call him, unprompted, by name. Suddenly, Kurt remembers he's in uniform. He puts a hand over the name sewn on his shirt.

"Oh," he says. "I almost forgot. It's on my…"

"Your name is Kurt Hummel," Adam says. "You got into NYADA with an audition Carmen Tibideaux sprang on you during the Winter Showcase, probably because she knew you would blow everyone away. But that was your second audition, if I'm not mistaken." Kurt feels himself blush by Adam spouting off this information, as if he's been personally composing the history of Kurt's time at NYADA, but Adam isn't done. "You also recently won Midnight Madness against your own roommate, Rachel Berry. Yes, Kurt, I know _exactly_ who you are."

"Well, I…" Kurt is stunned. And to think he wasn't sure that Adam even knew he existed. "Alrighty then. So, what do you say?"

"I'll need to take a look at your home environment before I make my decision. You know, to make sure it's feline friendly," Adam says, wearing what Kurt is certain has to be a teasing smile on his face. Adam takes out his wallet one-handed and slips his credit card out of the top slot. Kurt can't stop staring, blown away by the enviable dexterity of his fingers. He hands the card to Kurt and winks.

"Of course," Kurt says, taking the card, forgetting that he hasn't even given Adam his check yet. "I get off in a few minutes. We can ride the subway together."

"Sounds great," Adam says. "Thank you so much for offering to take the little guy in. It's a tremendous relief."

"You're welcome," Kurt says, heading for the register.

"And Kurt?" Adam's voice stops Kurt mid-step. "You're a lifesaver."

"Funny you should say that," Kurt says to himself as he walks Adam's credit card to the cash register, "because you may just be a life _ruiner_."


End file.
